Little Wonders
by Scribbler
Summary: One shot. Killing Jounouchi was not an option. Anzu had that written on a post it stuck to her vanity mirror, so it had to be true.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine, never were.

**A/N: **Do not ask me to explain this. I have no explanation. I just have fanfic and a stupid urge to write it.

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_**Little Wonders**_

© Scribbler, January 2008.

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_Our lives are made  
In these small hours  
These little wonders,  
These twists and turns of fate._

-- From _Little Wonders_ by Rob Thomas.

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_**SPLAT!**_

Seriously, 'splat'? What a horrible word to describe the sudden cheek-burning mortification that only comes when mixing high school with boys and their hormones. Who invented that word, anyway? The noise was more of a 'spresh-splut-splut-splut'. 'Hiss' was pretty accurate though - even if this time it was the purely metaphorical hissing of water evaporating off the sheer strength one girl's anger.

Killing Jounouchi was not an option. Anzu had that written on a post-it stuck to her vanity mirror, so it had to be true.

The post-it didn't say anything about a little light maiming, though. A nipple twist, maybe, or a wet willy followed by a kick to the crotch. She went to ballet practise last night so her thigh muscles were taut enough to send his nuts into his neck until he graduated. If she could swing for a female police officer there was no way they'd even arrest her for GBH, either.

"Jounouchi," she said slowly, enunciating each syllable. "Do you see me laughing?"

The room fell silent. All eyes were on her. Even the boys had broken off their punching and talk of last night's game to watch – weird considering it usually took a nuclear bomb to make them notice her. A dim thread of curiosity wound through Anzu's mind until she realised her blouse was sticking to her front and she'd worn her underwired bra today. It was black and ugly and showed through the wet fabric like a candle flame burning through tissue paper. She hastily folded her arms over her chest and felt her anger and embarrassment ratchet up another notch.

"Um…" Jounouchi perceived their audience too. Originally it had just been him and Honda, until Yasuoshi stuck his face over Jounouchi's shoulder and issued a challenge the idiot just _had_ to take up. It wouldn't look good for him to back down for a girl, but it would do him even less good to stand up to her right now. He was so far in the wrong that 'right' was on a page torn out pf his personal dictionary. "No?"

"No. I'm not laughing. You know _why_ I'm not laughing, Jounouchi?"

"Because … uh …" His eyes ticked left and right.

Honda had his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ceiling, staying out of it even though he was less than a foot away. Yuugi was doing his own eye-ticking between his two friends, obviously caught, so no help there. Otogi was clearly enjoying this too much to step in and Ryou just looked confused. He wasn't well-versed enough in the dynamics of their group to understand the power struggle going on. He probably thought this was a real fight – which it was, except in the ways that counted.

"Uh…" Jounouchi looked at Anzu and made his decision. He shrugged. "Because you have no sense of humour?"

Honda drew in an eloquent breath. Anzu heard it pass between his teeth. At least _someone_ understood the importance of not jumping up and down, yelling and wiggling your butt at the sharks over the side of the boat after you'd already rocked it.

She nodded. They had an audience. She had a post-it at home. She also had an exemplary conduct record to maintain. Jounouchi had retribution coming to him. It was an interesting equation to balance, but she would've been an honour student had she not missed so much school running all over the world to save her friends' souls. She was good at Maths. It all worked out in the end – provided she kept her cool. She, after all, had as much reputation to maintain as her friends.

Jounouchi and Honda were the drop-outs gone good. Yuugi was the gaming mastermind. Ryou and Otogi occupied opposite ends of the same heartthrob spectrum. And she … she was the loudmouthed feminist in their midst. She was the one who kept them in check. She was the one who gave them something to rail against so they could bounce off her personality to parade their own. They needed her as much as she needed them.

She ignored the clutch of girls giggling in the corner. They didn't approve of her. They also hadn't spoken to her since the beginning of the year.

Deliberately, she walked up to them. Kids parted to let her pass. She could've gone up to anyone in the room. She didn't. She went up to them.

"Are you done with this?"

One of the girls wrinkled her nose reproachfully. "Sure."

Anzu picked up the small bottle of soda. "Thank you." She walked back to her place with one arm still crossed over her chest. It barely covered one accusatory black cup. Damn big boobs. Most girls wanted them, except for those who actually had them. They threw off your balance in pirouettes and made petite tops look ridiculous, like trying on Barbie's clothes.

You almost couldn't tell Jounouchi was clutching the desk with one hand. His escape was cut off by convention. Run away now and he'd forever be known as Mr. Buttercup. After this at least it would be known that he'd stood his ground against Miss Loudmouth Killjoy. He could've been lounging nonchalantly, staring death in the face with bravado.

Yeah, right. Even Jounouchi wasn't that stupid.

Carefully and deliberately, Anzu emptied the soda over his head. "Whoops," she smiled. "I slipped, too. Not quite a water balloon, but I guess that's what makes my story more believable, huh?" She pressed the tip of one finger against her pursed lips, batted her eyes and counted backwards from five. Slow applause spread through her classmates like ripples across a lake.

_**RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRING!**_

The students scrambled to return to their seats. Anzu slid her blazer on and buttoned the front. It was a hot day, but better this than catcalls on the way home. She watched from the corner of one eye how Jounouchi slicked his hair back using soda like gel. Then he wiped the soda dripping off his nose on his sleeve, ruining the effect.

"Jounouchi," said the teacher when he hobbled into the room under a crate of paperwork, "what on earth have you been up to?"

"Nothing, sir. I spilled soda down myself, sir."

Not one person quibbled this recount of events.

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_**Fin.**_

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End file.
